“Of course.” She ducked her head. Too late, I realized she’d been crying. The kohl around her eyes had tracked down her cheeks, and her nose still ran. She sniffed as quietly as possible. “I understand.”

“Is something wrong, child?”

“No.” She spoke the word too quickly, still backing away. “No, my lady. I am sorry to have bothered you.”

I didn’t need the Crone’s Vision to see her lie. Truthfully, I needn’t have asked at all. She still grieved her dead lover, Gilles, the man she’d killed with her own hands. All because he’d been a son of the king. “A cup of chamomile tea, my dear.” When she blinked, confused, I clarified, “In the kitchens. Brew and steep a cup. It will settle your nerves and send you to sleep.”

With another curtsy and word of thanks, she departed, and I sagged against the nearest wall.

“Holy shit,” Beau breathed.

“That was incredible,” Coco added.

“Release me.” Reid broke Jean Luc’s hold swiftly, efficiently, his throat corded with strain. He whirled on him in a storm of fury. “She was isolated. The situation controlled. We should’ve struck—”

“And then what?” Flinging my hands in the air, I hobbled toward him. “Really, what’s the next step in this master plan of yours, Chass? We hide her body for someone to stumble across? We stuff her in the closet? We can’t risk anyone knowing we’re here!”

“You’re jeopardizing the mission, Reid,” Jean Luc agreed darkly, “and you’re endangering everyone here. Follow her orders, or I’ll incapacitate you.”

Reid stepped toe to toe with him. “I’d like to see that, Jean.”

“Oh, shut it, or I’ll stuff your body in the goddamn closet.” Losing patience completely, I whirled—though in reality, it looked more like a shuffle—and doddered up the passage once more. “We’ve wasted enough time here.”

Reid followed in mutinous silence.

Deadly and Beautiful Things

Reid

Chateau le Blanc was a labyrinth. I hadn’t ventured beyond the Great Hall on Modraniht, so I could do nothing but follow Lou. Lou. She hadn’t told me who she was. Of course she hadn’t. She hadn’t told me she’d inherited her mother’s power—that she had become La Dame des Sorcières.

She struggled to climb a set of rickety stairs now. Coco and Beau supported her on either side. Their shapes remained dark. Unnatural. Like shadows. “You could always change back,” the latter muttered, catching her stout frame as she stumbled.

“This is better. If we meet anyone else, they won’t look too close.”